


False Choices

by tilia_cordata



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 8x23 Reaction, Angst, Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:43:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tilia_cordata/pseuds/tilia_cordata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>8x23 reaction fic, because the finale gave me feelings about how Sam is doomed anyway. Dean POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	False Choices

**Author's Note:**

> My first SPN fic, posted on Tumblr right after the S8 finale. Has basically been jossed by 9x01.

Trials from heaven aren’t something you can walk away from.

 

Castiel had said that Sam was being changed, permanently, from the trials. He wasn’t wrong. The Winchesters didn’t know how much.

Dean thought maybe he had a better sense now. They had made it back to the bunker; he didn’t really know how - plodding along as angels fell from the sky, with an injured, half-human Crowley in the back seat, and Sam, barely able to stand, hacking and coughing in the front. But they had made it, and Kevin had helped Dean get Sam into bed and Crowley to the basement dungeon, locked away. Crowley barely protested, and Dean wondered if they were keeping themselves safe from him, or Crowley safe from Abbadon.

It didn’t really matter, at this point. None of it really felt like it mattered.

Sam was finally asleep, his breath shallow and pulse thready. Dean sat beside him, watching, waiting.

Kevin was standing by the door. “Maybe we should take him to a hospital?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s nothing a hospital can give him that’ll help him now.”

Kevin nodded and turned away, back to stare at the incomprehensible Word of God and maybe find some answers. It was probably too late, it was probably hopeless. But it was what he could do, so he did it.

Sam shivered violently, and his eyes fluttered open. “Sammy?” Dean asked, “You still with us?”

Sam tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. “I think,” he said weakly, “that stopping the third trial might have been a mistake.” He started to cough again, drops of blood speckling the white sheets.

“No,” said Dean. “You would have died if you finished. You’re alive, alive is better than dead. As long as you’re alive we can find a way to fix this.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m dying, Dean. I’m pretty sure there’s no way to fix this.” He tried to sit up, but his head swam and he fell back on the pillow. “If I do have to die, the least I can do is shut the gates of hell behind me.”

“Dammit, Sammy, you aren’t going to die. We’ll fix this, we always do. Hell, we’re probably an entry in other hunter’s journals. ‘The Impossible Winchester Boys and their inability to stay dead.’ Surprised no one’s been baking down the door to learn our secrets.”

“No secrets,” said Sam, “Just dumb luck, bad deals, and angels on our side. But no angels anymore. It’d be nice if there were no more demons too.”

“No, Sam. I’m not letting you kill yourself for this.” Dean hung his head. “Wasn’t supposed to be you, anyway.”

“Yeah, well, Dean, it was me.” Sam looked away, sighed, closed his eyes. “Look, I’m too tired to fight with you right now. Let me sleep, and we’ll figure this out.” He started coughing again, but the attack passed quickly and he settled back against the pillows. Dean hadn’t moved from the chair beside his bed. “Don’t watch me sleep, Dean. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Damn right you’re not,” said Dean, though he really didn’t want to leave. He got up, though, because Sam needed his sleep, and he wasn’t a child needing to be watched over. Dammit, he’d just turned 30 this year, though Dean felt like they had both lived lifetimes. He lingered at the door, waiting until he was pretty sure Sam was asleep, and then went to try and get some sleep himself, the ache of fatigue settling in his bones.

He didn’t sleep long, though, his dreams peppered with visions of angels falling from the sky, intercut with memories of old pain - the two times he watched his brother die in front of him, visions of all their dead friends, fleeting memories long suppressed of fire and blood. Sleep was a cold comfort, so he went to find something to dull the buzzing memories in his head.

Kevin was waiting in the kitchen, pouring over the two tablets in front of him. “They’re easier to read, you know, when they’re whole,” he said without looking up. Dean got beers for both of them, though Kevin mostly ignored his.

“Do, ah, do you think Sam’s right?” Dean asked. “That he’s dying either way?”

Eyes still not leaving the tablets, Kevin said, “Honestly, Dean? I have no idea. The tablet lays out the steps, it doesn’t really detail the final outcome. It doesn’t really give the option of not finishing. But I guess it would be God’s style to force this kind of self-sacrifice. Kind of goes along with the whole deal, you know?”

Dean shook his head. “Screw God. He abandoned this world a long time ago. Screw destiny, screw tablets, screw it all. I am not losing my baby brother to the pit again, not even to shut it for ever.”

There was a heavy silence, broken by a cough. “Dean,” Sam said, leaning heavily against the door frame. “I might die doing this, yeah, but after everything that’s happened, everything I’ve had to do for this, the one thing I am almost certain of in this, is that if I die shutting this all down forever, I’m going to Heaven.” He looked steadily at Dean. “Look, I don’t want to die. But I think maybe I don’t have a choice here, and maybe I should go back to the path I was on before.”

“Look, Sammy, you don’t have to decide this now, when you’re all feverish. Just sleep some and we can talk about this in the morning, yeah? Or maybe until we deal with the planet full of fallen angels we seem to be saddled with.” He could buy all the time he wanted, but he knew in his heart that this was the path they had started, and he knew they would have to finish it somehow.  

Sam nodded and went back to bed, still leaning heavily on the wall for support. Kevin returned his gaze to the tablets, forever searching for answers, and Dean sat with his beer and waited for the numbness to settle in.


End file.
